_She turns to the minister._

Wasn't it a wonderful thing to see?

CULPEPPER.

It is wonderful to see human nature so credulous. And to me, very painful.

MRS. BEELER.

To-morrow you will see how right these poor souls are to lift their trust so high.--

_To Rhoda._

Where is he now?

_Rhoda points in the direction of her own room._

How happy that young mother's heart will be to-night!

UNCLE ABE.

_Solemnly._

Amen!

CULPEPPER.

_In a dry tone._

We will hope so.

_They move to the hall door, where Beeler resigns his wife to Rhoda. The two pa.s.s out._

_Culpepper, Littlefield, and Beeler remain. During the following conversation, Martha lights the lamp, after directing Uncle Abe, by a gesture, to take the provision basket into the kitchen. He does so._

LITTLEFIELD.

_Pointing through the window._

They're just laying siege to you, ain't they? I guess they won't let your man give them the slip, this time--even though you do let him run loose.

BEELER.

_With severity._

You have seen my wife walk alone to-day, the first time in five years.

LITTLEFIELD.

I beg your pardon. I understand how you feel about it.

_Martha goes out into the kitchen._

And even if it proves to be only temporary--

BEELER.

Temporary!

LITTLEFIELD.

Permanent, let us hope. Anyway, it's a very remarkable case.

Astonishing. I've only known one just like it--personally, I mean.

BEELER.

_Astounded._

Just like it?

LITTLEFIELD.

Well, pretty much. Happened in Chicago when I was an interne at St.

Luke's.

BEELER.

Then it's not--there's nothing--peculiar about it?

LITTLEFIELD.

Yes, sir-ree! Mighty peculiar!

BEELER.

I mean nothing, as you might say, outside nature?

LITTLEFIELD.

O, bless you, you can't get outside nature nowadays!

_Moves his hands in a wide circle._

Tight as a drum, no air-holes.--Devilish queer, though--pardon me, Mr.

Culpepper--really amazing, the power of the mind over the body.

CULPEPPER.